


The Quartets Of Light

by potslooshi



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Fluff, M/M, Recreational Alcoholism, minor homophobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-09-27 21:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17169566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potslooshi/pseuds/potslooshi
Summary: Every chance with Jongin was one worth taking.





	The Quartets Of Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaiohtic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiohtic/gifts).



> 'Chanyeol smells like home, but sometimes Sehun misses the light.'

The light filters in, fanning over his naked torso.

Sehun burrows further into the warmth around him, nosing along the familiar scent.

Something shifts.

“You’re tickling me.”

Sehun grunts in repose, snuggling back into the broad chest pressed against him. Chanyeol smells of home; warm sheets and clean skin with a hint of spice.  
Chanyeol smells familiar.

Sehun brings Chanyeol’s arm around his waist, effectively encasing himself into a toasty cocoon.

“You look like a burrito” Chanyeol chuckles, pressing his lips to Sehun’s temple.

Sehun grunts again.

“Ah, is that your mating call, Sehunnie?” he pokes Sehun’s ribs.

Sehun lets out a muffled giggle, wiggling away from his husband. Chanyeol’s arms wind around him again, muscles flexing deliciously around Sehun.

Sehun struggles uselessly, slobbering and licking his husband’s chest when the latter’s infectious laugh resonates in his ear.

“Is that how we’re playing today, Sehunnie?” he murmurs, the endearment slipping easily.

Roaming hands find his waistband; testing, teasing. “Tell me what you want Sehun.” Chanyeol’s voice taking on a raspy intone.

Sehun gasps.

“Touch me, Yeol.”

 

* * *

 

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the room.

 

Sehun hums in contentment, walking over to where Chanyeol stands, slipping his hands through the sleeves of his husband’s vest; fingers ghosting over the firm planes of abdomen muscles.

 

“Smells good.” he mumbles, snucking his face into the crook of Chanyeol’s neck, tiptoeing a little to look over to the counter, where Chanyeol had arranged the little cucumber sandwiches, crusts neatly cut off, the cream cheese slightly spilling out. Just perfectly overstuffed.

 

Chanyeol turns around, deliberately, so that Sehun’s hands don't slip away and looks down at him; dark eyes twinkling in amusement and an underlying fervor that makes Sehun shiver.

“It always does when I’m doing the cooking.”

Sehun harrumphs. “You just aren’t vocal enough about my culinary repertoire.”

Chanyeol pretends to think for a moment. “That’s probably because it's virtually non-existent.”

Sehun gasps in mock horror, twisting away from his husband’s hold.

Chanyeol pulls him back with a practiced ease.

“Ah, you grumpy child.”  
He leans down, lips hovering over Sehun’s. It’s almost there, but not quite. Slotted together, except where Sehun needs it the most.

He feels Chanyeol’s slight smile against his own as he closes the distance between them.

Chanyeol tasted like coffee interlaced with something saucy that he probably had snuck in during his spree in the kitchen. Sehun licks in with absolute greed.

He pulls away, partly because his stomach was rumbling, and partly because-

“I couldn't breathe” he smoothes down Chanyeol’s brow and the unasked question.

His husband tilts his chin up, letting the light from the double hung windows fall on his face, marveling at the marbling on the satin skin.

“Better?”

Sehun shuts his eyes, breathing in.

“Much.”

“Good.” Sehun can hear Chanyeol’s smile as he captures his lips once more.

  __

* * *

__

 

 

Sehun sits by the curtain wall in the living room, tapping away methodically on his computer. The late afternoon sun filters in through the infills of glass, casting an array of flecks of brilliance and shadows all around him. Kaleidoscope.

 

The light flickers down on him, dancing; with an entrancing methodic rhythm. Sehun's grown almost familiar to the rare pang of longing that shoots through him, as he stares at the motes of dust spinning away near the window pane.

He stands up, moving closer to the glass, letting the rays fall on his face, whispers against his lashes. He can almost taste it. Taste him. In the brilliant radiance that surrounds him. It shields him, envelopes him resolutely.

He looks down at his arms where the light touches his skin, where its color borders on honey.

Scarce days like this when the warmth encases him, bringing with it the memories of a boy basking in the light, his brown hair flailing in rhythm to the wind. The reminiscence of blinding white smiles, eyes crinkling up into pretty half-moons. The light.

  


* * *

  


  


The first time Sehun saw Jongin, the boy had been dancing.

 

The unprecedented grace, the captivating ease with which he moved, it was all lost on Sehun. He wasn’t there to dawdle. The atelier was filled with a haunting music that Sehun was unsure as to how to appreciate. The boy curled in on himself, leaping, landing with keen, precise twirls.

 

Sehun cleared his throat.

The boy turned; the exertion leaving a pretty pink flush on his cheeks, pulling his brown, cropped knit to cover more of the toned tanned stomach, turning off the music as he strode over to Sehun.

 

“Visitors aren’t allowed in during practise hours” the boy said, plush lips curving into an easy smirk.

 

“I wasn’t aware.”

 

He wasn’t lying. The studios on the west wing of college were far from Sehun’s comfort forte.

 

“There was a notice on the door.” he said, a teasing cadence in his voice.

Noticing Sehun’s unease, the boy chuckled.

He had a funny laugh, nasal, but wholesomely pleasing. Sehun found himself breaking into a grin as well. Infectious.

 

“I’m willing to make a rare exception…?” he canted his head to the side, waiting for Sehun to catch up.

“Sehun. Sehun,” he rushed. “You’re my advanced structures tutor”

 

He didn’t miss the way Jongin’s face lit up with a blinding smile.

 

* * *

 

Sehun was sprawled across the freshly mowed lawn behind the dorms, absently listening to the broken beats of MCR filtering from one of the rooms on the fourth floor. The air smelled clean with just a hint of mildew. He shifted a little, dusting off the wet blades of grass sticking to his jeans.

 

He had his first class with Jongin this evening. The boy had left a quick text letting Sehun know about his free hours, asking him to pick a spot.

Sehun absentmindedly picked a stray piece of lint off his navy sweater, wondering if he was a tad overdressed for the occasion.

 

Shrugging the thought off, he lay down against the grass, not minding the wetness against his one, thin layer of clothing.

The clouds were scant, the afternoon sun beating incessantly through the leaves. He let his thoughts wander. From the grimy layers of failing classes to toned bodies moving frictionlessly to unidentifiable music.

 

A shadow was cast over him, and Sehun opened his eyes, blinking rapidly; pupils adjusting to the sudden intrusion.

“Hey.” Jongin’s voice was deep and mellow. “Did I wake you up?”

The boy’s head blocked the sun, and left him shrouded in light, akin to a halo. Sehun stared, transfixed, his eyes flickering over to the prepossessing features, soft and sharp at the same time.

 

Jongin called his name again.

Sehun sat up too fast and groaned as he felt the blood rush from his temple, shaking his head a second later.

“No. You didn't. I was just…” he trailed off, watching Jongin sit down on the grass beside him. The fluidity of his quotidian movements made Sehun feel mechanical in an embarrassing way.

 

Jongin turned to him, signature smirk already in place. “You hungry?”

Sehun’s shrugged, not wanting to be on the receiving end of such caregiving, but his stomach rumbled all the same. _Traitor._

Jongin’s smirk turned into something more genuine as he chuckled, eyes softening as he gazed at Sehun.

“I tried making rolls. ‘tried’ being the keyword, alright?” he crooked an eyebrow at Sehun, to which the boy nodded quickly. He wasn't a picky eater by any means; daily dinners of canned sweet and sour pork ramen had shaped his stomach well.

 

Jongin fumbled in his bag for a second, before pulling out a tiffin filled to the brim with what look like rolls wrapped in seaweed. Sehun’s mouth watered a little.

 

Jongin looked at him expectantly, and Sehun reached for the tiffin in a heartbeat, starting to eat with his fingers. He paused for a moment as he realized the dancer probably found him mildly disgusting, but all he found in Jongin’s chocolate eyes were sheer warmth, his own face reflected in the orbs.

 

“To think you might not want it,” he chuckled, reaching for a roll and popping it in his mouth as well.

 

Sehun chewed slower, relishing how the rice was still warm, how the juices from the grilled meat seeped in, everything seasoned just right.

 “You’re good,” he acknowledged.

“I’m alright,” Jongin laughed. “My roommate helped me with it.” he pulled out two thick texts, reminding Sehun of the real reason they were there.

 

“Where do we start?”

 

 

Jongin was a good, no, a great teacher, Sehun realized about an hour into their session. Patient with Sehun’s signature whims, he was attentive, eyes piercing as he listened to Sehun raptly, with undivided attention. More often than once, Sehun had felt the urge to look away. Or to continue looking at him. The inner conflict was so new to him, so foreign.

 

Jongin’s lips were moving, probably explaining something to do with 3d modelling and remedying its weaknesses. Sehun had stopped listening a while ago, gaze involuntarily flickering over the unblemished golden skin, and the way the fading rays were dancing on it. Jongin’s hair was slightly longer at the base of his neck, some new fad that brought the 90’s grease mechanic back into trend. Somehow, Jongin made it look good. It looked soft to the touch, Sehun mused lightly, wondering how it would feel to card his fingers through the chestnut strands.

 

He only realized what he was doing until he was halfway there, hands moments away from brushing against the nape of Jongin’s neck. The boy stilled for a moment, turning to look at Sehun, eyes dancing with mirth.

 

“You still with me?”

Sehun drew his hand back, flushing a beet red, essentially very confused, like he needed some virtual processing time.

“I’m… not sure why…” he rambled quietly. “Sorry.” His brain had furtively searched for the word.

 

“It’s alright.” He tapped his index finger against Sehun’s fisted palm. “No one seems to like this hair, anyway.”

 

Sehun disagreed with a passion. Jongin pulled it off. All undulating lines of tan and gold.

 

* * *

_12:15_

_His watch showed that fifteen minutes had gone by._

_The aroma of sweet, smoky spices wafting through the garden, probably would’ve made him salivate on any other day._

_His mother was still yelling. His father showed no signs of return._

_Twelve year old Sehun approached the grill cautiously, grabbing an oversized mitt that his father had left behind._

_The lid was huge, and he could hear the grease dripping deliciously if he listened just carefully enough. The mittened hand was absolutely useless, a hindrance, really, he decided, before removing them and raising the lid with his bare hands, ignoring the quick sting of heat that followed._

_The chicken thighs were charred a delicious reddish brown. He glanced at the house once more, wincing at the sound of glass breaking before reaching out for the tongs and carefully turning the meat._

_His father probably would’ve done a better job, he thought, eyeing the haphazardly strewn pieces of chicken on the grill, but he’d probably be proud too._

_He walked over to the flowering evodia and huddled underneath it, curling up against the trunk. His mother was screaming, words that Sehun knew meant terrible, terrible things. His father was begging now. He always begged towards the end, for them, for their son. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes and he screwed them shut, willing himself to ignore the stray drop that trickled from the corner. His father said that crying meant you were losing. Sehun knew that his father was losing now._

_He let the tears flow freely, wrapping his arms around his knees, praying for the sounds to fade away. The afternoon sun was warm on his pale knees, the warmth spreading serenely across his body. He looked up, vision slightly blurry from the tears._

_The sunlight peeked in through the leaves, throwing shadows on his bare legs, the patterns on his skin dancing, almost teasing him to smile. He reached out, trying to grasp the brilliant rays in his hands, fully knowing that he couldn't, but somehow the mere thought of the rays warming his hands and his body, made him feel at peace._

_The sounds had died down, leaving muffled sobs that Sehun refused to strain to hear. He heard the door open and heavy footsteps treading down the grass, followed by the savory aroma of meat and barbeque sauce._

_The light still danced around him, albeit slowly, like it was retreating. He stretched out his legs, trying to bask in the last dregs of heat. The footsteps grew closer, before stopping right beside him._

_His father’s eyes were mildly red, the smile on his face, however, was genuine. One that was only meant for Sehun to see._

_As he polished off the food, nestled in his father’s arms, tears long dried, he could see the light gently retreating from the corner of his eyes, flickering as it faded away, leaving the tree to cast its shadow, sheltering them once more._

_  
_

* * *

__

_  
_

 

The neighborhood where Jongin lived was quiet, a stark contrast to the normally boisterous off campus housing and it's dingy, overflowing lawns. Sehun had been staring at the quaint, slate grey apartment for quite some time, trying to coax himself into going inside.

 

He had been slacking off the entire week; the ever growing mountain of assignments had started to look far from promising. He’d caved, and texted Jongin for help, a little before midnight. He wasn’t sure if Jongin would reply, because of the late hour -  and besides, these were subjects outside their tutoring sessions.

Jongin had texted back, fifteen minutes later, complete with the attachments of his notes and had taken it upon himself to order dinner for Sehun.  

 

So there he was the next morning, trying to ignore the fact that paying people quick visits, let alone uninvited, was far from what he was comfortable and familiar with. But the gnawing uneasiness that he owed Jongin an apology and a thank you for the previous night had gotten him distracted and fidgety all morning until he’d given in, throwing on a coat and hurrying to the bus stop without a second thought.

 

The door to 302 was wide open, with a man fastening a wreath onto the front door. Sehun contemplated leaving while he still could. The man turned, almost as if sensing him, eyebrows raised in convivial curiosity. He was a head shorter than Sehun himself, with wide, expressive eyes, and something in the warmth of his gaze reminding him of his tutor. And the reason he was there.

 

“Hi, I’m… looking for Jongin”  
 He glanced down at the now crumpled piece of paper in his fist. “He’s my tutor.”

Quick recognition filled the man’s face, his lips curving into a heart shaped smile.

“Ah, you’re Sehun right? I’m Kyungsoo, Jongin’s roommate. Come in, he’s inside.”

 

Sehun stepped into a warmly lit living room, looking around as Kyungsoo ushered him to a plush couch, eyes snagging on the ornament laden miniature Christmas tree by the entrance. The room was decked in traditional holiday fare, the sparkling lights throwing golden hues onto red berries and glitter.

 

Christmas had been a quiet affair at home, before his father’s death. He would wake up to the smell of roasted chicken, thick gravy dripping deliciously onto the foil, making him salivate until dinner time. His father would still hold him, even though Sehun was much too big to fit in his arms, the lights from the tree blinking down upon them. Just the two of them.

 

The winter he’d passed away, Sehun sold the house, the tree, every single bauble, and with it, all his memories. He’d wrapped the wad of cash in an envelope, addressed to his mother, with a surname he no longer knew.

 

“Sehun?”

Jongin was standing in front him, shirtless, looking thoroughly confused, his hair messy and untamed, a sharp contrast from the usual soft strands that fell on his face.

Sehun shot up. “H-Hi… um… bad time?”  
He forced himself to not let his gaze drop from Jongin’s face to the faint, faint lining of muscles on his abdomen.

 

Jongin rubbed his neck before answering.

“No, give me a second, let me grab a shirt.”

He’d turned and had gotten a few feet before Sehun realized something.

“You have tattoos-”

Jongin turned, looking arrested, while Sehun felt the heat rush to his face.

“You have tattoos.” he repeated lamely.

“Yea… yea. They’re tattoos, I guess.” Jongin stretched his arms to the light, examining them like he’d never seen them before.

 

In the light, Jongin’s tanned arms were swathed in what Sehun could only describe as whimsical feathers, the silver-white lines running all the way from his forearm to his shoulder, before tapering down to his clavicles. The skin where the designs were etched was slightly raised, but almost like it was meant to be. Letters that he had no hope reading were inscribed right above where Jongin’s heart would be.

 

_In dolorem et maeror._

Sehun dragged his eyes back to meet Jongin’s.

 

“Through sorrow and pain.”  
Jongin’s eyes were filled with an inexplicable sadness.

Sehun was confused, maybe he just wasn't meant to understand.

“That’s what it means”.  Jongin’s voice was low, the velvety warmth in the room almost stifling.

 

 

 

“Isn’t it a bit too early to be putting up decorations?”

 

Sehun was at the door, deliberating plucking at the bits of spruce on the wreath. Jongin was leaning easily on the frame, now wearing a pale, full-sleeved cream sweater. He couldn't comprehend why Jongin constantly covered his arms, especially when the tattoos had such a stark brilliance about them, something wispy, almost magical. Sehun wondered if they’d hurt - it was a question meant for another day. If he ever worked up the courage to ask, that is.

 

Jongin snorted.

“Nothing’s too early for Kyungsoo. He thrives on decorating and redecorating the whole house.”

Jongin’s eyes softened a fraction.

“You never told me why you came by…”

“I didn't say thank you for last night. You didn't have to…”

He met Jongin’s eyes - deep brown irises brimming with unrequited affection. Sehun couldn't acknowledge it, not when no one had looked at him that way in a very long time. He let his gaze drop to the floor.

“Who else will, Sehun?”

Jongin’s voice carried memories of glittering baubles and crackling fires.

“No one,” Sehun admitted.

  


* * *

 

 

_Mr. Oh Sehun,_

_You have been named as a beneficiary in the Last Will and Testament of late Oh Jiwon. You are requested to be present at the reading, which will be held on the 23rd of this month, at 10am, at the following address._

_In the off chance that you will not be able to make it, the other beneficiaries have agreed to shift the date to one of your convenience._

_Regards,_

_Kim Hyejin._

Sehun had re-read the words till they were just shapes on the screen, till he was unable to derive any meaning from them. There was no will he knew of, except for the money his father had saved up for his education, Sehun knew there was nothing left.

 

The address at the end of the mail was not one he was familiar with, but it was where he knew his mother lived. That much he’d heard from her on the day of the burial, and that he was to consider it home. He wanted to tell her that the only home he’d ever known was now six feet under the ground, rotting and cold. But Sehun had just walked away, just like his mother had, years ago.

 

 

The rest of the day passed by in a haze, and soon he was sitting in the far corner of the library, arms wrapped around himself, to keep him from falling apart.

He barely heard Jongin behind him, until warm hands were on his shoulder, his vision filled with poorly concealed worry.

“You alright?” Jongin was already flipping through his tutorial notes for the day, his eyes never once leaving Sehun's. “I called your name about five times.”

 

Sehun let his gaze drop.

“I’m sorry. Just a little out of it, I guess.”

Jongin didn't probe. Sehun was grateful. Jongin had been doing too much for him lately. Sehun didn't need another shoulder and, more importantly, Jongin didn't need his burden.

 

“Are you even listening, Sehun?”

Jongin sighed before shutting the book and fixating Sehun with an effortlessly bening gaze. Sehun squirmed under the sheer intensity. Jongin’s eyes were always so open, the brown irises glistening like the held all the warmth in the world, tapering into the dark void of his pupils, leaving flecks of gold in their wake. Singularly the most beautiful thing Sehun had ever seen.

 

“I don't want to talk about it, Jongin.”

It came out sharper than he’d intended. He winced, before trying again.

“My life doesn't concern you.”

  


* * *

 

 

Quiet music played in the car, with Jongin’s fingers tapping away systematically onto the steering wheel. Sehun had watched the slender digits move on his own accord, the erratic rhythm calming him more than he’d like to admit.

 

The 23rd of December. Jongin had picked him up at the crack of dawn, brewing him a steaming mug of coffee, before letting him sleep for more than half of the journey. It had taken very little coaxing on his part before Sehun had spilled everything, his carefully curated facade crumbling as he admitted that he didn't want to face the family that had left him behind.

Jongin had listened, carefully, before suggesting that he drove Sehun himself, leaving no room for further arguments.

 

Sehun had slept fitfully the previous night, tossing and turning, unable to forgive himself for dragging Jongin into the mess he called life. But the boy had seemed like he wanted it. The poorly concealed affection made his heart ache, along with the irrational sense of calm that enveloped Sehun when he was around.

 

“Shouldn’t we be closer by now?”

The three neighborhoods they’d passed looked the same, large gated communities with identical houses and sprawling lawns.

Sehun checked his phone again. “Take the next left, we should be there in five.”

Jongin turned to look at him at the slightest inflection in his voice. How he had managed to pick up on it, Sehun had no clue.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, let’s just get this over with and go home.”

 

 

His stomach was in knots as he rang the bell, Jongin’s mere presence keeping him substantially steady.

“Sehun?”

His mother looked younger than he’d remembered. Pale pink lipstick framing a genuinely surprised smile.

He nodded, not sure as to what to say anymore. His mother turned to Jongin, so did he. It seemed like the next ordinary thing to do. Jongin was looking right at him, a small smile playing on his lips. Sehun’s heart thumped furiously, almost as if the slightest of actions from Jongin elicited a tremendous response in him.

Jongin nudged him gently, turning back to his mother. Sehun fought to gather his thoughts.

“This is… my friend Jongin,” he mumbled. “He drove me here.”

“You’re quite handsome, Jongin,” his mother beamed, before quickly ushering them in.

 

His mother’s husband was loud and boisterous in a way that his father had never been, trying to unsuccessfully strike up conversations with Sehun, before subtly moving on to Jongin, who kept him entertained throughout dinner. Now that Jongin’s sole attention was no longer on Sehun, he let his gaze wander along the gentle planes of the other boy. The way Jongin’s soft chestnut hair curled over the nape of his neck and forehead, the chocolate brown sweater that covered his arms where Sehun knew the silver white tattoos were etched into his skin, bringing the deep velvetiness of his eyes to life. 

Jongin had caught him staring more than a few times, but Sehun could not bring himself to appear abashed. Jongin’s eyes told a different emotion every time he found Sehun’s gaze, sometimes brimming with happiness, other times insipid with a hint of sadness and pain.

 

* * *

  


 

“Are you and Jongin…?”

Apparently the unspoken gazes weren’t as discreet as he’d wanted them to be. His mother had pulled him into the kitchen in an attempt to rekindle some of the lost affection.

Sehun flushed.  
“No. We’re not… there isn't anything… he’s my friend,” he trailed off, before repeating the last part, albeit firmer this time.

His mother nodded. The kind that said she wasn't buying it.

“He seems like a good boy, Sehun. You should come over, bring him with you as well.”

This seemed like a vague script, one that Sehun had heard numerous versions of.

“So that you can finally play house with me? Where was all this concern when you left us?” he said sharply, the way his mother’s face crumbled giving him a fleeting sense of victory.

 

 

The lawyer was young, not much older than Sehun himself, with a sharp mouth and shrewd eyes.

His father had left him the family house and everything in it, with the exception of a small piece of land, leased off in his mother name. His mother had sole proprietary over whatever wasn't mentioned. Sehun stood up as soon as the reading was done.

“Where do I sign?”

His mother sighed.

“Sehun, there are a lot more papers to go through.”

He snorted.

“What matters to me has been done. I think I’ve made it clear that I do not want a part of whatever it is you have to offer.”

He turned to the lawyer.

“I’ll send you the sales files as soon as I get back”.  
The woman smiled gratefully.

Jongin was at his side in an instant, bowing courteously to everyone at the table before placing a hand on the small of Sehun’s back and gently ushering him out of the house.

 

* * *

  


The streets were alive in spite of the late hour, the storefronts shuttered, but still draped in glittering Christmas lights. Jongin had animatedly picked the food stall they were standing in front of, their chicken skewers in the process of being packed.

 

The wooden benches were slightly wet, making Sehun wince in discomfort as he sat down next to Jongin, facing the miniature row of stalls alongside the road. Jongin fished out two large bottles of soju, the thawing causing a smattering of droplets on the surface of the glass. He wiped one of them with a napkin before handing it to Sehun with a grin, one that Sehun automatically found himself responding to.

 

The food was nothing short of divine, the thick sauces dripping down onto his fingers where he sloppily licked them off. The conversation was light, complete with Jongin’s exaggerated slurping and moans as he bit into pieces of meat. He never brought up what had happened earlier that day, for which Sehun was grateful.

 

The roads began to clear up past midnight, the few remaining stragglers moving hastily as the dew setted in. Sehun leaned down to place his bottle neatly next to the sauce-slicked paper plates, his mind an amalgam of clarity and obtuse fuzziness. Jongin’s voice drifted in and out, dripping over him like honey, making the lights shimmer. Sehun closed his eyes. Jongin was talking to him.

 

“Mm?”

“I said ‘you’re not allowed to pass out here’.”

Sehun opened his eyes to look at him. Jongin was smirking, probably at Sehun’s inebriation and his nonexistent ability to hold his alcohol. He was so beautiful with the street lights falling on him, making him glow. The sharp angles of his face softened by the smooth fall of dark hair and full, plush lips. Sehun wanted to touch him. He shifted closer to Jongin, curling up and resting his head on the other’s shoulder. The warmth that engulfed him was instantaneous. It flamed through him, a dull glimmer, leaving a calming chill behind. He hummed against Jongin’s chest. Maybe he was drunk.

Jongin chuckled, a light, lilting sound.

“You’re such a lightweight, Sehun.” There was no judgment, just sheer, unadulterated fondness.

“That's why I have you around.” The fondness in Sehun’s voice, tangible.

He sat up, still sitting close enough to Jongin to feel his warmth, to see the flickering in the brown irises.

He touched the side of Jongin’s face, his fingers running over the skin in a feathery way, before cupping it with his palms. Jongin’s eyes danced with playfulness, looking like he was trying hard to suppress a snort.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” the deja vu whirled (HMM, where exactly have you written this before, stupid?). Like he’d said this before.

Jongin’s snort came out sounding strangled, a tell-tale blush rising up the tanned neck.

Sehun thumbed the side of Jongin’s jaw.  
“My mother told me that you’re invited over.”

Jongin’s eyes softened.  
“I’ll come with you.”

Sehun wanted to tell him that he’d probably never let him go, but the thought was quickly shut down by another.  
“My mother likes you.”

Jongin smiled, leaning into Sehun’s palm. The warmth was almost unbearable now, like it was radiating from Jongin himself.

“I like you, too.”

Sehun didn't miss the imperceptible stiffening, but leaned in nevertheless, his mind whirring at a thousand miles as he touched Jongin’s lips with his.

 

It felt like he was melting, slowly, but steadily, into Jongin. The light burning through his lids as he kissed him, once, twice, three times, until Jongin was the only thing he could feel. He pulled away with a gasp, the sharp realization that Jongin hadn’t moved, that he was staring at Sehun, stunned, the fear and pain in his eyes indescribable. He was so beautiful. Sehun had never wanted someone so much before.

  


* * *

 

 

It was drizzling outside, and Sehun had left campus soaked to the bone, carefully avoiding the studio wings on his way out. It had been three days since he had seen Jongin. Three days since Sehun had kissed him, and apologized profusely while his heart had thudded resoundingly in his ear. Jongin had stayed quiet, long enough for Sehun to understand that what he’d done was in no way alright, before gently assuring him that he was drunk and had silently walked him home. Sehun’s heart may have broken a little as they walked through the streets in silence, his breathing too loud in the quiet. Enough for him to know that he had meant what he said, enough for him to miss the resounding warmth that was Jongin when he’d left him at his door. The chill had been unbearable that night. Frigid and cold.

 

From then on, he had avoided Jongin. The texts the other boy had left about their tutor sessions were left unanswered. Everyone walked out every once in a while. Sehun figured that this time it could be him. But it hadn’t been enough and he found himself missing Jongin in the simplest of things - like the bespeckling of tiny motes of dust, filtering through the glass, or the steady rhythm of feet on the hardwood floor, reminding him of the first time he’d seen Jongin dance. He was in too deep, gravitating towards Jongin without a second thought.

 

 

Byun Baekhyun was a family friend. Sehun had known him for the longest time, and somewhere down the line they had inevitably grown apart. So it had come as a surprise when the shorter boy had pulled him aside and invited him to his birthday party that evening, with the quick promise of ‘a small group of people’, leaving no room for a refusal.

 

At some point during the night, he had some pretty junior seated snugly against his crotch. He couldn't get into it. He’d garbled some poorly phrased apologies to the girl, who’d promptly waved them away which allowed Sehun to slink away to a corner where he could brood and agonize in peace. Self-pity had always been Sehun’s strong suit.

 

That was how Sehun had found himself in a house that was growing exceedingly cramped by the second, taking shot after shot of cheap gin that left a sickly floral aftertaste in his mouth. One shot for every failed attempt at a conversation struck up with him, one for every girl eyeing him, one for every time he caught a glimpse of some tanned stranger in the crowd. Only to feel a vague sense of disappointment every time.

 

Somewhere between 11pm and the indistinct place between drunk and tipsy, he decided to leave, convinced that he was physically able to make a journey somewhere. Anywhere.

The graveyard that lay a little away from town sounded like a good place. A few minutes worth of careful consideration told him that his bed probably sounded better. He leaned against the ugly graffiti on the bus stop walls, picturing the grey headstone nestled in the grass, the cool breeze rustling the leaves the last time he had been there. His father wouldn't have liked to see him right now, Sehun thought bitterly, before trudging down the road back to the dorm.

 

Movements sluggish and slow, he was about as far away from the dorms as he was ten minutes ago. He leaned against a street light, pressing his face against the cool metal, trying to sober up. The fact that the streets were almost eerily quiet was gnawing at him persistently. One more lane, he told himself, pushing himself off of the pole.

 

The cheap, rundown bars were up and running in full swing, the raucous noise enough to reach the main lane. Sehun winced as crude insults floated his way. He walked a little faster, trying to ignore the sordid motives that hung in the air.

He walked past three men on the sidewalk, tawdry, smelling of stale alcohol and smoke. One of them spat out a comment, vulgar and derogatory. Sehun urged his legs to move faster, the clarity seeping into his bleary mind.

 

The heavy hand on his shoulder was the first thing he felt, before he registered that he was no longer moving. The man leered at him.

“Fuck, you’re pretty-”

Sehun twisted uselessly in his grip, as the man twisted both his hands in his fist. He was stout, the veins in his eyes a glistening red, the skin under his eyes saggy and bruised. He pushed Sehun against the wall.

“You’re too tall for me boy, but I’ve had a dry week, so I’ll take what I fucking get.”

The men on the sidewalk laughed loudly. Tears sprang to Sehun’s eyes as he trashed, the nails in the wall digging into his back. The alcohol had left him incoherent and weak, his mind amplifying the repulsive feel of the man’s hands on his skin.

Something snaked under his shirt that felt like a shard.

“How many rounds do you think he’ll last?” the man cawed to the others, before turning to Sehun, face inches away from his.

It was too warm. He gasped for air through the suffocation.

“Do I leave you here to rot? Or do I take you with me?” he licked the shell of Sehun’s ear. “You’ll be begging for me to take you, won't you, faggot?”

The word brought his legs back to life on their own, the heat surging through him as he rammed his knees into the man's groin, pushing himself off the wall as the man keeled over.

 

He half ran, half stumbled onto the road, the heat making him feverish. He could hear the man yelling, the heavy footsteps gaining on him, but all he could see was light- splicing through his head, taking away his inherent sense of direction and heightening his senses at the same time. The heat swelled when he crashed headfirst into it, the air tightening around him, as he struggled to keep his eyes open. The warmth was becoming more tranquil, something solid enveloping him,? as the light ebbed out from his vision.

He saw Jongin, eyes bright, skin warm, too beautiful to be conjured up by Sehun’s addled mind. The men had probably gotten him. He let his eyelids fall. Jongin’s tattoos were glowing, a roar filling Sehun’s ears, before there was nothing.

He wished he could see Jongin once more.

  


* * *

  


_The backyard._

_The sun is warm against his face, drying up fallen tears._

_Fifteen year old Sehun had folded what was left of his mother’s clothes, stuffing them away before his father returned. He took down the frames, the notes she’d left on the fridge, tears streaming down his face… it was almost like she’d never existed. Almost. They’d be fine, his father and him._

_Block 11, the lawns, behind the dance studios._

_Jongin’s eyes crinkle up in mirth, hair carelessly pushed back, the evening sun falling on it, making it look more golden than chestnut as he chortles loudly at something Sehun said._

_The grass is wet against his skin and Jongin’s laughter still rings in his ear as he fills out his sheet, the boy humming quietly next to him. Sehun falls a little deeper._

_The atelier._

_Sehun waits in the corner of the dance studio, back against the cool glass. He had opted to wait for Jongin today, stepping out of his lonesome bubble to quietly sit by the barres as he watches Jongin dance. The music is strong, all heavy beats and pulsating rhythm to which Jongin twists freely, his expression of absolute concentration breaking into a grin every time he faces Sehun._

_It's almost like the boy was flying, body molding seamlessly to the music, exposing a scandalous amount of torso every time. Sehun tries hard not to look._

 

  


Rheum clouded his vision as he blinked, scrubbing at his eyes furiously, before sitting up. His room smelled like buttered toast and roasted coffee beans. He stood up, feeling mildly suffocated, sweat dotting his body as he headed out to the living room, only absently noting that he was in a fresh pair of shorts. The house was sweltering hot. The apartment heater didn't get this warm in the winter, he thought, wiping his forehead with the end of his shirt.

 

The kitchen was like an oven, fragrances that twisted into one another in the heat. His beat up washing machine hummed loudly. Sehun froze. Jongin was standing by the stove, back turned, wearing one of Sehun’s threadbare t-shirts. Sehun rubbed his eyes mercilessly, unsure of what he was seeing. Light filtered through Jongin’s shirt, a soft muted golden, the edges of his tattoos peeking over the shirt, lit up like the incandescence was flowing through the intricate patterns on Jongin’s skin.

 

He was probably dreaming and the heat was having it's will with his head. He stumbled out of the kitchen, knocking over the umbrella rack in his wake. Sehun went shock still, willing the mirage to go away as he turned to face the kitchen.

 

Mirage Jongin was staring at him, a multitude of emotions flitting through his eyes as Sehun gawked at him. Shock. Pain. Anger. Fear. Resignation. His lungs felt like they would collapse from the heat. Jongin’s eyes softened at his plight, the tattoos dimming steadily, until they lay white on the tanned skin.

 

Sehun gasped for air, the sweat cooling rapidly on his body as the temperature dropped back to normal.

Jongin called out to him. Sehun watched as the last dregs of light ebbed away from Jongin’s skin. The light. Too much light.

 

“T-the fuck are you?” he choked, leaning against the wall

Hurt flashed across Jongin’s face. He stepped forward, almost as if he wanted to reach out to Sehun.

“Sehun please,” Jongin begged weakly. Sehun didn't know why he sounded so desolate, so desperate, like all he wanted was for him to understand. But he didn’t. Worldly tattoos never glowed, not like that, anyway.

“What are you?” he tried again, softer this time, much like he wanted to put Jongin out of his misery before himself.

The boy look conflicted, the air growing heavier with every second he waited. Sehun felt like it was eons later that Jongin finally answered.

“We are guardians.”

The heat swelled and burst once more, cooling much faster this time.

“Are you… doing this?” Sehun rasped, crumbling against the door, to sit on the ground.

 

Jongin stayed silent, his head bowed, unmoving. Anger welled in Sehun, before he knew it.

 

“Fuck, are you doing this or not? What the fuck is a guardian? Your fucking skin is glowing! You can't give me one sentence and stand there like that… ” he yelled, trailing off when his throat was too hoarse to continue.

 

Jongin didn't flinch. Sehun stared at him, the gold of Jongin’s skin; the face devoid of emotions, before realizing that he wasn't scared of Jongin, and would never be. Maybe it was the ever-present sense of security he felt when Jongin was around. Beautiful, kind Jongin, who was currently staring at the floor like he didn't deserve to look Sehun in the eye.

 

Sehun tried again.

 

“Please… Jongin.”

 

The boy looked up, eyes blazing. His tattoos began to glow, liquid illuminance curling up his skin. Sehun stared at him, transfixed, as a wave of heat crashes over him and his vision goes white.

 

Sehun opens his eyes to brilliant sunlight. The sandbox. His middle school playground. He watches as his ten year old self tends to a bloody scrape on his knees. His younger self has his lips in a strong hold between his teeth, to prevent him from crying.

 A habit that Sehun has never really gotten rid of. His little legs are outstretched, while he quietly mumbles to them about how it was going to be alright.  Sehun watches as the morning sun fans over his younger self, caressing the wound in ways that the child would never understand.

 

His vision goes white again.

 

_The graveyard. 14 th of January. Sehun turns away, not wanting to relive the moment, but the inherent knowledge that he cannot look away crushes him. He watches himself lie crumpled on the ground near his father’s grave, long dried tears streaking his face. He doesn’t know how long he’s been there. Hours probably. He had spent days there, clawing at the dirt, begging to the skies to return his father to him. In the end, he’d lain there, his cheek pressed against the cold stone, listening to the leaves rustle in the wind._

_And Sehun feels him. He feels Jongin in the gentle murmur of the wind, the glittering specks of sunlight. He could almost see him, smell the warm honey and butter scent cloying his nostrils. Things that are so uniquely Jongin. Beautiful, kind Jongin, who was with Sehun every step of the way. Preserving and shielding him._

_Sehun closes his eyes as the vision fades away._

 

Sehun felt the floorboards under him. He was back. Tears flowed freely as he opened his eyes, the gravity of what he’d seen washing over him.

The washing machine had stopped humming, its load complete. The air was cool, albeit a little dry. The house silent. Jongin was gone.

  


* * *

 

It was raining heavily outside. Sehun sat huddled under his blankets, the box of takeaway warming his hands. It had been a week since Jongin had stood there in his kitchen, eyes blazing, leaving Sehun with a multitude of unanswered questions. He could see a pattern forming.

He slurped up the last of the sesame noodles before leaving his blanket burrow to wash up. He had left the balcony door slightly ajar, the cold draughts a little too chilly for his liking. Sehun stood by the door, watching the rain dot over the railings. The cars on the road were familiar splotches of light, the sleet making it hard to put a singular form to anything. He moved closer to the parapet, which was slightly wet from the onslaught of stray droplets.  Some of them fell on his face, chilly, but warming up quickly against his body heat.

Sehun closed his eyes, the sharp wind brutally powerful against his face, with the rain quickly cooling the sting. He could almost taste it. _I know you’re there_.

 

 

The studio wing was virtually empty, save for a few stragglers who threw Sehun curious looks that he promptly ignored. The atelier was filled with some quiet classical music, reminding him of the first time he’d been there. The mid-day sun streamed in through the large windows, throwing light and shadows throughout the room. Sehun sat down at the center where the rays hit the floor the brightest, relishing the warmth that seeps through him. He wouldn’t leave until Jongin had come for him, so he closed his eyes, waiting.

He opened his eyes at the sound of muted footfall. It had been less than five minutes. Jongin stood there in the shadows, eyes unreadable as he looked towards Sehun. The light shimmered on his skin.

Sehun’s mouth felt parched as he reached out to grab his notes from his backpack.

“You missed our Tuesday session. Now I’m behind,” he mumbles, flipping through the pages, eyes drinking in the beautiful smile that forms on Jongin’s face as he moves closer to sit next to Sehun.

  


* * *

 

“So, where are your wings?”

Jongin snorted.

They were sitting at an open coffee bar near college, taking a break after cramming for a solid two hours.

“This isn’t Raphael’s Saint Madonna, Sehun.”

Sehun huffed. “How else do you travel then?”

“I take the bus.”

“Very funny.”  
Sehun rolled his eyes, grinning despite himself. “So it’s just the visions and the funky tattoos then. That kind of sucks,” he joked, trying to get a rise out of the boy.

“We materialize at places. Teleportation, for you, I guess,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

Sehun just gaped at him.

 

The knowledge of what Jongin was came with a barrage of questions, most of them remaining unanswered. Jongin waved most of them off, answering very few, with quick, precise words.

It left Sehun with the realization that not much had changed. Jongin was still himself, warm sweaters and brilliant smiles that never failed to make Sehun’s heart clench tightly. He felt deficient every time he thought of how he was irreversibly falling for his tutor, how he would always be inadequate for him. The thoughts never lingered, however, quickly replaced by those of small smiles and pending papers.

  


* * *

 

 

“Have there been many before me?”

 

“You have a way of making everything sound weird,” Jongin sighed.

 

“I meant it as in how many protégés have you had before me?” Sehun elaborated, making a face at him.

 

“23.”

 

“Are… any of them still alive?”

 

“A guardian stays for a lifetime, Sehun,” he smiled sadly, like he was reminiscing on something, far, far away.

The question itched at the back of his throat. Sehun kept quiet, biting his lips gently to keep silent. Jongin didn’t miss the subtle movement.

 

“Do you want to hear about them?”

 

Sehun lifted his shoulders, laying out the option that Jongin could back out of it, if he wanted to.

 

Jongin chuckled.

“You would’ve liked them all.”

He sat up straighter, staring at Jongin with rapt attention, as his honeyed voice floated through the room.

 

“The first was Kim Minseok. He was a perpetually happy boy. You know, the way five year olds are. Gummy smiles and never ending curiosity. He was also very, very sick.”  
Jongin paused. Sehun could see the glistening sheen in his eyes.

“I was the guardian to a dying child. Every day I’d watch as the light ebbed away from his eyes. His parents took care of him like gold. He would pat their tears dry, before putting his wet palms on his own cheeks.  He died a year later. Organ failure.”

The grief on Jongin’s face was palpable.

“I kept him warm till the end.”

 

Sehun wanted him to stop talking. He wanted to wrap his arms around Jongin, and never let him go. He did neither. Jongin looked at him with a brimming fondness, like he knew what Sehun was thinking.

“Many years later, it was my brother Jongdae’s daughter. She was beautiful. A little tanned like me. I watched Jongdae through her eyes. He grew old, always telling stories about me to his children and grandchildren. The boy I was, the man I would’ve become. How much he loved me. He died too, quietly, with his children at his deathbed. They lived a good life… _in dolorem et maeror,_ “ he trailed off.

“Sehun?”

Sehun blinked back tears. Strong arms enveloped him in a warm scent of honey and fires.

 

“That’s enough for today.” He heard the guardian say.

 

He looked up at Jongin.

“Are there any happy ones?”

 

“Yours.”

 

* * *

  


  


His head throbbed, completely in sync to the pulsating beats. Even clean shots of some cheap Smirnoff rip-off could not get him into the loud, spazzy psych music reverberating throughout the confined space. He was there with Jongin, who’d left him a while back to talk to his classmates, after Sehun had insisted he’d be fine on his own, despite knowing very well what had happened the last time he was inebriated.

 

He watched the throng move erratically to something that sounded like a synthesis of daft punk and saint motel, the occasional hollering keeping him sane.

The group closest to where he stood had the best moves of the lot. One of them - the guy  Sehun’s alcohol fuddled mind had dubbed ‘beige sweater’ - moved his hips with so much raw excellence that it made him want to stand up and appreciate the sight all night. Beige sweater did an extremely hard thrust, his pelvis had had to be dislocated after that one.

 

After the third song and Sehun’s unintentionally shameless ogling, beige sweater finally turned; dark eyes squarely met his own, pink lips curling into a smile that Sehun’s now grown accustomed to seeing every day over a hefty stack of books and otherwise. 

Jongin made his way over to Sehun’s corner, eyes never leaving his, the only lucid face in the crowd.

 

“What did you think?” he teased, voice dulcet and warm, almost like it was just the two of them, sprawled in Jongin’s living room, windows flung open to the evening sun.

 

Sehun closed his eyes for a moment, rolling the words over and over to find a coherent reply. When he opened his eyes, he had none.

 

“Shit…” he slurred, eyes roaming over Jongin before he placed his palm on the boy’s hips.

 

“Shit, how… how are these even intact?”  
He poked at the subtle jut of bone, a slow giggle bursting out as he caught the look on Jongin’s face. Amusement and fondness. Unconcealed emotions so potent, Sehun could drown in them.

 

“You’re plastered.”

Sehun nodded in fervent agreement.

 “It’s almost two in the morning, Sehun. Want me to walk you home?”

The prospect sounded dull.

“Too far.”  
Jongin’s place was closer, the idea making his clouded mind tingle.

 

Someone pushed past Jongin, shoving him, bridging the distance between them.

He couldn’t breathe, sobering up at their closeness. The light glistened off Jongin’s lips and he wanted to lean in, even with the looming prospect of quick rejection. The last time hadn’t been pretty, but Sehun wanted him _so much_. Every chance with Jongin was one worth taking.

 

“Can I kiss you?”  
It came out weaker than he’d intended.

Jongin sighed.  
“Will you promise to sober up and go home?”

Sehun nodded before pressing his lips to Jongin’s. Reverently. Savouring every second of it.

 

There was a gentle warmth lingering in the room. Unfamiliar, yet pleasant. Jongin was still asleep, chest steadily rising and falling, his hair matted on his face. The first sun rays trickled through the window and fell on him, gently caressing the long lashes and golden skin.

Jongin had stayed the night, succumbing to Sehun’s persistence, albeit rather reluctantly. Sehun had scoffed at the respectable distance Jongin had put between them on the bed, which was now, nearly nonexistent.

Sehun stared at him, entranced. The smooth fall of hair, the plush lips that were on his own last night. Even if it was for the shortest of seconds, Sehun had felt complete.

He reached out, thumbing Jongin’s lips gently, running his forefinger over the slight wetness.

 

“I’m awake, you know.”

Sehun startled, pulling away slightly, but not completely. A sudden surge of courage prodded him to speak up.

“You’re beautiful.”

Jongin cracked an eye open, but Sehun didn’t stop there.

“I think… I love you.”

Jongin shifted away but Sehun held on to him, knowing fully well that Jongin could break out of the vice like grip if he wanted to.

“Please-“ he begged, effectively stilling Jongin. “I know I’m not worthy to even hold you like this, but I want to. God, I want to, every single day. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same, I won’t ask you to. But please, let me love you, let me make you happy, from the sidelines… only from the sidelines. I promise.”

The room was silent as Sehun gently let go of Jongin. The guardian’s eyes were filled with sorrow so unbridled, it tore through Sehun’s heart. He gently touched Sehun’s face, smoothing out the creases above his eyebrows, over the bridge of his nose.

Sehun closed his eyes.

 

 

* * *

  


Where falling in love with Jongin had been easy, _being_ in love with him was pure torture. It was the overwhelming sensation to touch, the need to feel Jongin, all of him. But Sehun mustered through it, finding undiluted happiness in the smallest of things. Like how his heart thumped every time their knuckles brushed, or how he was filled with joy at the mere sight of Jongin walking towards him, his brilliant smile in place.

 

Nothing much had changed. Jongin never brought up the conversation they had and neither did Sehun. But Sehun’s life was slowly, but surely starting to mold around Jongin’s. How Jongin stayed over on the weekends, cooking for him before they caught up with some series that Sehun never really paid attention to. It was all Jongin. The way his eyes drooped as he drifted off to sleep, the way he smelled of warm honey and dew in the mornings. He felt whole again.

There were moments, however, when unspoken pain would rush into Jongin’s eyes when he thought Sehun wasn’t looking. He grew quieter, shutting himself off for a few hours before the smile returned to his face. Sehun never asked why. Somehow, he already knew that it wasn’t something he would get an answer to.

  


* * *

 

 

Sehun pulled the zipper taut, trying to shut his backpack. The class was going on a case study to a glass factory, in the suburbs of the city. He didn’t know what he’d packed for a few hours, but his bag was already filled to the brim. He’d left Jongin a text letting him know that he had reached home for their tutoring session. Jongin hadn’t replied. The infrequent incidents of him shutting himself off from Sehun had become recurring over the past week.  He wouldn’t quite meet Sehun’s eyes, rushing off right after the sessions were over.  
‘From the sidelines,’ Sehun would remind himself, every time he wanted to hold Jongin and put him out of his misery.

The doorbell rang, harshly breaking the silence. Sehun hurried over to get it.

 

Jongin stood in the corridor, his eyes wild, his tattoos glistening with golden light. Sehun stared.

“Jongin, its-”

He was silenced by Jongin’s mouth on his, warm and wet, tasting everything uniquely Jongin. Sehun broke apart under him all too easily, gasping for air. The room had gotten stiflingly hot, like most of it was radiating from Jongin’s skin where the tattoos were scorching hot to the touch. Sehun traced the pattern on his collarbone with a finger, feeling the heat surge through him, their breaths mingling.

 

Jongin was looking at him with newfound, sheer desperation, and he twisted his hands through Sehun’s hair, kissing him once more, kicking the door shut and steering them into the house. It scared Sehun a little, the intensity with which Jongin held him, the heat that was searing his skin, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

 

Jongin gently pushed him on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and running his mouth over every visible patch of skin. Sehun groaned, pushing him away slightly to grab at Jongin’s shirt.

“Off,” he rasped, trying to make his trembling hands find purchase, revelling as inches of tan skin came into view. He reached for Jongin’s pants, already gone in the haze but gentle fingers pried them off. Jongin was looking at him with soft eyes, the fire in which was already ebbing away, his tattoos a dull white, making him look almost human. He shook his head.

“Let me talk care of you,” he whispered.  
Putting Sehun first, like he always did, always had.

Jongin bend down to kiss him before he could react, his tongue dipping into Sehun’s mouth relentlessly. He eased down Sehun’s pants, before pressing his mouth to Sehun’s thighs, biting the soft skin, leaving bruising marks in his wake. Jongin’s fingers curled around Sehun’s cock, thumbing over the slit and fondling his balls, leaving Sehun a heaving mess.

 

Sehun’s hand sneaked out between them, hesitating for a moment before wrapping his palm around Jongin’s fingers and guiding it further down.

“Please,” he said, quietly, completely unashamed. Jongin nodded, before he gently eased a saliva-slicked finger into Sehun. It hurt, but Jongin held him through it until the pain had ebbed away, leaving him writhing in Jongin’s arms.

 

He could feel Jongin’s cock strain against his thigh as he stroked it through his jeans. Jongin shuddered, his eyes falling shut before he took Sehun’s palm, kissing it with reverence.  Sehun had wanted him right then and there, wanted to please him, to return a small part of the pleasure. Jongin smiled like he could hear Sehun thoughts, his eyes shining, the message in them clear. _Not today_.

Jongin paced the thrust of his fingers, crooking them just right until Sehun had tipped over the edge, white stains splattering them both. Sehun had watched as Jongin’s eyes struck a brilliant golden, a violent heat swelling over the room once more.

 

 His bedroom was dark, noiseless, except for the quiet, rhythmic breathing beside him. He knew Jongin was awake by the way his arms tightened around him. Sehun lay there, reveling in the feeling of Jongin’s skin against his, committing it to memory. Jongin’s pants were rough against his bare calves, but Sehun refused to move, not wanting Jongin to let go just yet, not wanting to see the remnants of desperation in the other’s eyes. He let Jongin’s steady breathing lull him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

  


The bus ride back was quieter than the one to the factory, with everyone being too drained to do more than slump against the seats. Sehun stared out of the slightly opened window, watching the trees rush past, the late evening air cool against his skin.

Jongin had left before he’d woken up but Sehun could feel him everywhere, the honey scent lingering on his clothes. He’d pushed the questions to the back of his mind for later, and had slowly gotten through the day, brown irises flashing behind his lids as he closed his eyes.

The highway was deserted, the driver going too fast for his comfort as he leaned back against the seat, the sounds around him fading to nothing.

 

A sickening crunch woke him up, with a numbing pain shooting through his ankle. Bags had fallen from the overhead rack and he could register people screaming.  Sehun tried to move the dead weight off his legs, blinking to clear the dust from his eyes. Panic coursed through him, rendering him helpless for a brief moment. The seat in front of him had toppled over, had buried his legs underneath and sent a fresh wave of pain through him as he tried to move. The air was getting drier, something Sehun could only equate to a heat wave~. He pushed the seat off with his hands, stumbling up to the crowd pushing to get to the door. Bile rose to his throat as he watched flames leap from the front of the bus, licking over the door, the seats, their luggage~. Someone screamed that the back door was melting down its hinges.

 

His legs were turning numb, the pain the only sensation left. Something had to be broken. Screams of ‘cover yourself while you run’, reached his ears as he pulled his hoodie over his ears, pressing the cloth over his face. The guy behind him shoved him before he was ready, sending him staggering into the fire. He pulled himself through it, ignoring the searing pain as the flames touched the exposed skin. He stumbled out of the bus, ungracefully meeting the ground, the cool air tainted by the wild heat of the fire.

 

Sehun crawled to the shrubbery a mere few feet away, dragging his legs, not trusting them to hold him up. The mosses were cool against his face, leeching the heat from the burns he’d sustained. He was safe. He could hear the screams fading, hoping that meant everyone had gotten out. A loud rumble resounded through the road and with a deadly screech, the bus began to tilt, slowly toppling over to the side.

Sehun tried to push himself up, to get himself out of harm’s way, despite something telling him that he wouldn’t make it. Not this time. Sehun dragged himself across the thorny shrubs, his legs slowing him down. Not fast enough. His eyes closed on its own accord as a gyrating sound reached his ear. Sehun braced himself for the impact. Waited for his vision to go dark. Wished he could see Jongin one last time.

His torso was lifted off the ground, strong hands circling his waist. For a moment, he saw a flash of gold, before the air was sucked from his lungs, almost like he was being broken down and built up again, piece by piece. The sound of the bus toppling over echoed in his head, far, far away.

 

“You’re safe.”

Sehun opens his eyes to meet beautiful brown ones that were shimmering with tears. Jongin pressed him close, gaze searing as he searched Sehun’s body for wounds before taking his hands and placing them on his chest, where Sehun knew his tattoo lay. _In dolorem et maeror_. Through sorrow and pain. Tears sprang to Sehun’s eyes, his throat too dry to form words.

“No, don’t speak,” Jongin murmured. “You’re safe. You’re safe,” he repeated, like a prayer, his tears falling on Sehun’s face.

Sehun reached up to touch Jongin’s face, wanting to end the angel’s misery, wanting to make the pain his. Jongin leaned into the touch, a sad smile painting his face.

“It’s my turn to love you from the sidelines, Sehun.

Sehun’s heart clenched painfully, but somehow he’d already known. That Jongin would eventually leave. How he was never Sehun’s to keep in the first place.

“You said my story was a happy one.”

Jongin brushed a stray hair off Sehun’s forehead. “It is. It will be.”

Sehun knew he was trembling, the heat finally finding its way into his lungs, crushing the air and with it, the will to stay awake. Or maybe he just didn’t want to. Jongin’s voice sounded like it had travelled eons of space to reach him.

“Find someone who’ll love you just as much as you loved me,”

Warm lips press gently against his forehead, “Stay happy always.”

 

The noises had somehow amalgamated into an uproar. Sehun tried prying one feeling from the other- the sound of the water hitting the ground, the sirens all around him, the cool metal beneath him, gentle hand on his… the fading warmth. He opened his eyes with a start, realizing that he was still tightly fisting Jongin’s shirt.

Jongin’s body thrummed with a familiar heat, his tattoos starting to take on a golden hue. Sehun’s fingers unclenched, slipping off Jongin to fall limp on his own lap. Warm fingers cradled his face, bringing it up to the light. Jongin’s eyes brimmed with love and adoration, stripped bare of all fear… and then, he was gone.

  


* * *

 

The fear that engulfed him wasn’t new. It wasn’t the first, it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He staggered up, eyes darting frantically as he absorbed the scenes before him. The flashing lights, the disarray of vehicles, the students bundled up near the paramedics… the faint traces of gold nowhere to be found. The guardian had left him at the back of an open paramedic van. He slumped back down, the metal providing a transient sense of relief as he closed his eyes.

 

“Hey,”

He felt something heavy being placed against mouth.

“Okay, now breathe in for me…”

The voice was deep, the baritone almost mellifluous.

 

“Can you hear me?”

_No._

_One breathe. Then another._

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

 

He instantly regretted it, the light harsh on his unadjusted eyes.

 

The man in front of him was sweating profusely, plastering dark curly hair onto his forehead, staining his white coat. _Medic,_ Sehun guessed, as the man gently pressed two fingers against his throat.

“You’ve had minor smoke inhalation, but you’ll be just fine.” He jotted something down in a notepad.

“Can you tell me your name?”

Sehun did.

The medic’s face broke into a grin, one that lit up his face in the midst of all the griminess.

“I’m Chanyeol.”

 

* * *

  


  


Some silences hurt more than the others.

 

He had woken up in the common ward, surrounded by familiar faces, just not the one he ached to see the most. The one he knew he wouldn’t be seeing anymore. Nothing killed hope faster than horrific reality, Sehun had realized every time his eyes were drawn to slivers of lights where no angel emerged from. That was two months ago.

 

Sehun walked briskly past the throng of students crowding the hallway after the finals, the prospect of unwanted interaction making him hunch over, folding in on himself till he was outside. It was unusual to see a shiny black umbrella in mid-April, but people had stopped commenting on the fact that Sehun wouldn’t step out without it, their interest in him dawdling as quickly as it had come.

 

The hospital was quiet, the muted scent of antiseptic now achingly familiar. He’d found himself returning to the palliative care ward a week into the accident, even though it took him more than two to muster up the courage to talk to the children. This was where he spent his weekends, reading to them, watching as their eyes sparkled with life in their withering bodies. Numerous replicas of Minseok.

It was where he’d met the medic from the night of the accident-Park Chanyeol, as he would later know him, a medical student completing his residency, who could light up an entire ward with his endless cache of jokes. He never questioned Sehun’s distaste of interaction or why he religiously turned up at the ward every Friday. Chanyeol filled in the crevices of silences by telling Sehun what he’d done that day or how the kids were doing. Bit by bit, Sehun had found himself listening to the man, caring about what he had to say, even though it took him a while to start asking questions of his own.

 

He could hear Chanyeol’s hearty laugh through the ward doors as he stepped in, his face unconsciously turning up into a smile. He sat himself down on one of the stools, before turning to Chanyeol, already knowing what he’d find there. On in the rare moments that the man stayed absolutely quiet, he’d have a smile reserved just for Sehun, warm and a little crooked at the corners, one that made Sehun’s heart jolt painfully every time. Just like right then.

 

  


The afternoon that Chanyeol had asked him out for the first time, Sehun had left him with silence, trembling under the shade of his umbrella. A coward was what he was.

That evening he’d gone to the lake, his hands free of the umbrella for the first time in month.

Sehun had watched the sunset till it fell on him, tinting his arms in hues of brilliant orange and pink. The warmth that enveloped him was resolute in its answer, shielding him, willing him to breathe again. He was never alone.

 

* * *

  


  


Sehun watches his husband canter behind their two dogs before flopping down onto the grass, two balls of fluff scrambling around him.

“You’ve been quiet today.” Chanyeol says, his eyes wide like the calmest of oceans.

Sehun folds himself into a lotus position, carding his fingers through Chanyeol’s messy hair. His husband’s eyes are bright as he places his head on Sehun’s lap.

“Things…”

Chanyeol’s fingers reach up, cupping Sehun’s face, trailing his fingers across the corners of Sehun’s eyes, over the vaguest hint of smile lines that have begun to appear. He brushes a lock of Sehun’s hair. “Things like what?”

Falling in love with Chanyeol was like the steady glow of ember, it wasn’t akin to the golden gaze of the sun, but it was warm and beautiful nonetheless.

“I love you.” He murmurs, covering Chanyeol’s palm with his, watching as his husband’s face lights up with fond adoration.

Learning to love takes the greatest time, because there are things that are never once learnt the way. Sehun would always miss Jongin; the crinkling of his eyes, the softness behind his eyes. But he’d always be there, watching as Sehun tripped, fell, and picked himself up again. Always from the sidelines.

Gentle hands pull Sehun downwards to meet sweet lips, the evening sun dancing over the grass onto their bodies. Some things are answer enough.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,  
> There are a lot of things I want to say, but first, thank you for making it this far <3  
> To my Recipient,  
> This is probably eons away from what you wanted, but this idea was the first thing that popped up when I read your prompt. I'm sorry i couldn't give you a Sekai endgame, it broke my heart to send Jongin away like that. I do genuinely hope you liked this.../peeks through fingers/  
> To the Mods,  
> This fic is solely possible due to all the work Mod Sand did, beta-ing and babying me whenever I asked for it. I don't think I can gush enough about these two hardworking people... my heart goes out to you <3  
> To the Readers,  
> This fic is centered around the supenatural, and yes, LOTS of alcohol. We're all just spirits in the end... (Get it? No? Alright.)
> 
> Come talk to me on twitter @potslooshi
> 
> Do leave me comments, they make me the happiest.


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